


Brotherhood

by Kayasurin



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: And THAT'S important, Elves, Fluff, Mostly Australian, Mostly against the Elves, No Romance, Pooka Jack, Schmoop, The Elves aren't actually important, They are bad Elves, end of the world?, some language, some violence, what is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1727804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayasurin/pseuds/Kayasurin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the kink-meme <a href="http://rotg-kink.dreamwidth.org/3036.html?thread=6850268#cmt6850268">prompt</a>.<br/>Jack's got a secret, and Aster's been chasing this new Pooka running around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brotherhood

**Author's Note:**

> _Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero._ ~Marc Brown  
>  _I sought my soul, but my soul I could not see. I sought my God, but my God eluded me. I sought my brother and I found all three._ ~Author Unknown

"Bunny!" Jack stood, arms akimbo and scowl firmly in place, glaring at one recalcitrant rabbit. Aster put his paintbrush down, moving slow and careful - until the inevitable sneeze that made his whole body jerk like a marionette on its strings, and then the coughing that followed that left him doubled over and panting for breath.

"You are _sick_ , Cottontail," Jack said. He walked over, and moved enough of the paint pots away that it was safe to help Aster up onto his feet. Or all fours, that was better; currently the Easter Bunny's balance was none too good, and he had a tendency to pitch sideways even while sitting down.

Something about his inner ear. Jack figured that was as good an explanation as any, though his own pet theory involved a lack of food, water, and sleep.

"Bud Ea'ter," Aster said, through a clogged nose and sore throat.

"But, your health!" Jack grabbed a double handful of neck ruff, and tugged. Aster staggered up onto all fours, clearly off balance and just as clearly fighting against showing it. Jack kept him upright, partially through playing 'moving wall' and partially through brute strength, and urged the idiot over to the small cup in the ground that had been piled high with pillows, blankets, and an old, stuffed animal Jack had found hidden in the bedroom. It looked almost like a cross between a gorilla and an okapi, and in some spots the 'fur' was worn down to threads. A well loved companion, floppy, stained, carefully repaired, and just the thing for someone as sick as Aster currently was.

Aster grumbled a little, but didn't actively protest as he was tucked in. The stuffed animal was cuddled in the crook of one arm, and a gloriously fluffy blanket draped over his shoulders. Jack checked that the thermos of tea, kept carefully warm (but not too hot, because the idiot rabbit kept gulping it down instead of sipping), was nearby.

"Alright, general," he said, and carefully stroked one long ear. "Survey the troops, don't try to join in. Not this time."

"Bud is by responsi'bi'bi."

Jack grinned, and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. "Blow," he said, and held it out.

Aster glared at him, the intensity rather dulled by the fact that he was bleary-eyed, and then did as instructed. He choked and wheezed a little when he was done, but that was only to be expected.

Jack caught the Pooka under the chin with one hand, and stared into his face. "Right. Soup for lunch, Bun-Bun."

"I hade soup," Bunny muttered.

"Tough luck, buttercup." Jack scratched behind one ear. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to convince Mildred not to paint everything pink."

If Aster made a dismayed sound behind him, he pretended not to notice.

The latest batch of Burgess Believers - the original seven having coined the nickname, using it briefly in a garage band in fact - numbered at about twenty, being a mix of the original's children and 'newbies' indoctrinated into the 'hallowed ranks'. There was even an initiation ceremony, something Jack privately found hilarious and publicly supported.

Today, the Believers had come to the rescue, both old and new, parent and child, to help out with Easter preparation. Jack had called on them because Aster was sick as the proverbial dog, or maybe worse. The proverbial dog didn't have a high stress job to do.

The kids helped out, doing a lot of the personal work, while elves, yeti, and mini-fairies kept the bulk of the walking eggs moving through the dye river and paint plants. Maybe there wouldn't be as many eggs per child this year, but by golly there'd be at least two each!

"He's resting?" Jamie asked, glancing over towards the bed on the hill.

"For the moment." Jack crouched down, and began painting one of the blank eggs blue. "God, I feel like his older brother or something."

Jamie laughed at that. "You're certainly acting like it. But you've had practice, right?"

Of course he had. Jack nodded, and smiled faintly at the memory. Emma hadn't been his sister after all; the slowly returning memories had made that clear. His niece, yes, but not his sister. No less beloved. Rather more, in fact, because there was... something about his brother?

The problem was, when he'd first unlocked his memories, he'd only gotten bits and pieces. Highly emotional, but it was like being handed four or five puzzle pieces and being asked to deduce the entire picture just from that. He'd known he was a brother, and that he'd been willing to die for the little girl, and had put those two pieces together as 'she was my sister'.

Going through his tooth box after becoming a Guardian had threatened to erase the memories entirely. Tooth had explained that the magic on the boxes was only meant to _remind_ people of what was important. Having his memory unlocked seemed to have done some good, though; bits and pieces trickled back all the time.

Sometimes they were confusing - well, okay, all the time, at least until he got context - and sometimes they were frightening, but he was greedy for every scrap he could get.

Even if the picture that was forming was quite the odd one indeed.

Jack deliberately turned his mind away from that particular trail of thought, and focused on the egg painting. With the occasional foray up the hill to check on Aster, and then a bit further to make up a quick lunch for everyone. The food was welcomed with glad cries, and even Aster perked up a bit - though less so at his bowl of soup. In the end, Jack had to threaten to feed the Pooka like a baby before he'd eat.

The children, needless to say, had found it hilarious.

By the end of the day, the last of the eggs had been finished. The yeti and mini-fairies promised to see the eggs put out in the right spots, while Jack escorted the believers back to their homes. He got back in good time, at just the right moment to keep Bunny from trying to paint some more eggs.

"No, no, no, bedtime for you."

Bunny sneezed at him, but grudgingly followed Jack to over to the odd dwelling that was, really, very much like a hobbit-hole as described in the books. Just meant for a full-sized person, of course. The following was probably because Jack had taken the beloved stuffed animal hostage, but any reason was a good one when Bunny was like this.

Jack got Bunny tucked into bed, sitting up because he seemed ready for a bit of activity. A very small bit. Like another cup of tea and the grooming kit.

"You're shedding."

"You one t' talk," Bunny slurred. He sipped at the mug of tea, shivered, took another sip, and then shoved the mug at Jack while he sneezed. Jack fished out another handkerchief.

Aster finished off the mug of tea, and then blinked dully for a bit while Jack did some quick tidying up. Not that there was much to do, it wasn't like overgrown rabbits wore clothes.

"Time for bed," Jack told the Pooka. "C'mon, slide down here..."

Aster obediently wiggled down until he was curled up under the blankets, the stuffed animal held tight to his chest. He snuffled a bit when Jack pulled the blankets up over his shoulders, and then again when Jack adjusted the pillows, but he'd quickly slid into the 'docile' stage of the illness, and seemed content to just lie there and be fussed over.

"Jack?"

"Mm?"

Aster blinked up at him. "C'n ye' fin' Snowf'ake? I miss hib."

Jack's jaw dropped, quite embarrassingly. "Snowflake?" he asked, somehow not stuttering. Too many puzzle pieces were being thrown at him from the back of his mind, it was hard to keep everything straight. "Is that another stuffed animal?"

"No," Aster whined. "M' _bro'der_."

Oh. _Oh_. Jack blinked when several things settled into place. "I'll... go look for him. You just stay right here, alright?"

Aster nodded, and nuzzled his stuffed animal even as he fell asleep.

Jack decided to borrow Aster's library as a good place to sit and think. And pace and think, because the instant his butt hit the chair, he was up and stalking around the perimeter of the room.

That name - Snowflake - had sounded so _right_ and at the same time so very _wrong_. Like - like the meaning encompassed by the word had fitted, but the word itself wasn't right, a Gaelic term expressed in Arabic, or a description of a beautiful sunrise spoken in mathematical equations. And there were any number of memory fragments clinging to that name, it really did feel like he'd been attacked with puzzle pieces.

He wondered how this latest batch would fit together with the others he'd already collected.

* * *

Aster padded through the forest, enjoying the way his muscles stretched and relaxed. He'd finally been released from his sickbed, and if he'd been ill throughout most of spring, the mild summer almost made up for it. The forest he was in was mostly cedars and pines, a restful scent to his mind. The pine needles kept most of the inevitable underbrush down, so he made his way mostly unimpeded.

If being sick meant anything, it'd meant finding out just how much Jack cared. That was... gratifying. Not to say that Aster had doubted their friendship - once they'd gotten past their shared history, they'd become good friends - but it was one thing to be friends with someone. Another entirely to put up with the whining, the coughing, the sneezing, and the sheer gallons of _snot_ that came with a sick Pooka. For goodness sake, Jack had even found Quilby for him, and he'd thought he'd lost that poor stuffed _ibru_ centuries ago!

But it was nice to be on his own. It was hard to think, what with the constant hovering and offers of tea.

Not that he minded the offers. Tooth normally avoided anyone who was sick, unless she absolutely had to talk to them. He suspected one of the reasons she'd started splitting herself and creating mini-fairies was so she didn't have to get teeth from sick children personally. And Sandy just didn't understand illness, never having suffered anything like it before. North... Aster winced just at the thought. No, North was not someone anyone sensible went to when they were ill.

Jack, though, had been absolutely perfect. He'd been patient, he'd been understanding, he'd been gentle, tireless, and any other number of good points. He hadn't hovered to the point of actual frustration on Aster's part - annoyance had been a given, but he'd annoyed _himself_ , so that didn't count - but he'd been attentive to every last sniffle and cough. He'd cooked, he'd cleaned, he'd helped Aster with his personal grooming when moving from one room to another had been enough to exhaust him. There had been gallons of tea and countless handkerchiefs, even a fair bit of petting. Not something he was normally fond of, but it'd been nice from Jack while he was sick, he had to admit.

He paused to admire a variant of trillium, one he hadn't seen in this area before. The three petals were a pale blue, like the color glacial ice got. Definitely new. Had Seraphina made a few tweaks to the base plant? If so, he liked. He liked a lot.

Aster crouched down, and pulled a small sketchbook out of one pouch, a pencil from another. It was the work of moments to get the basic outline of the blue trillium sketched out, with a few quick, shorthand notes about the shade of the petals. Much closer to the white variant than the traditional blue, which had always looked purple to him, and nothing at all like the red...

He noticed, in his peripheral vision, some large, white beast staring at him. He ignored it. The white stags only drove mortal humans - men, always - to obsession, while the white does were far rarer these days then they'd once been, and good thing too. Poor things, cursed by a witch until they found some man with a title willing to break the spell, which tended to last just long enough to have her first child, at which point the witch got involved again. Back a century or two the trouble usually went to a witch trial, while these days it usually ended up in a criminal court.

Or... No, the shape was wrong for a deer, male or female. A unicorn? They weren't as rare as the white deer, whatever people thought. Sneaky beasts, unicorns. No concern of _his_ , of course. Hadn't been since, oh... who had it been? Handsome bloke, or maybe it'd been a sheila he'd lost his virginity to...

Ah, whatever, he'd been tipsy and revelling in the first bit of freedom he'd had... ever. And it'd been so long ago. How was he supposed to remember minor details?

Aster grinned, and put a bit more detail into the sketch.

The white-furred creature in his peripheral vision shifted, and then sat up.

... Not at all like an equine or cervid. That was more like the way a leporid would sit up on its haunches to survey its surroundings.

... Or a Pooka.

He continued to go through the motions of sketching and taking notes, but he couldn't see the flower any more. Even as he strained his eyes, trying to look over at that white shape without turning his head, he reminded himself how very many times he'd been disappointed.

Really, that Lewis Carroll's White Rabbit had been one of the cruelest things mortals had ever done to him. For years after the release of the book, there'd been a large, white rabbit running around the English speaking parts of Europe in a waistcoat, shouting about being late.

No waistcoat, he thought. Or if there was one, it was a very pale shade and looking only with his peripheral vision he wouldn't be able to tell the difference. He hadn't heard any legends about large, white rabbits in... crikey, yonks. And there were very few other creatures that moved like that, so that left out any native animals and animal spirits.

Hope, the hardest thing to hold onto, was also one of the most painful. Every time something raised his hopes, they were dashed, the shards cutting ever deeper into his heart. Yet how could he keep from _hoping_? It was his very nature, and more than that, his core.

Aster took several deep breaths, reveled momentarily at how he didn't have the urge to cough after, and looked up.

White fur, a bit thicker than his own. Pale gray markings, so pale that at that distance, he couldn't make out quite what they were, only that they were there. The ears were shorter than his own, more rounded, but still plenty long. Bright blue eyes, and an abbreviated muzzle that was like a cross between a rabbit's skull and a human's.

And that was a shite eater's smirk if there ever was one, right there...

Aster trembled, and it felt like the earth should have shook beneath his feet. Pooka. He was looking at another Pooka. One that - he snuffed the thought out before it could fully form. It was enough that he was looking at _another Pooka_. The impossible had already been realized, no need to try for anything more so.

"Wait," he whispered. He saw the other Pooka's ear twitch, and the shite eater's smirk widened into a grin.

Then the other Pooka whirled on one foot and took off running.

Aster chased after. The illness had taken a lot out of him; as fast as he was going, the other Pooka was faster.

By the first five minutes, he was wheezing. By ten, he had to stop and catch his breath, and watch the other Pooka vanish into the distance.

He clenched his jaw, and turned back to get his sketchpad. He'd go home. Brew himself a nice cuppa and figure out how he'd track down this white Pooka. If he felt up to it, he'd spruce up the guest room, since once he'd found the white Pooka he'd be _damned_ if he let the bloke just wander off into the howling wilderness.

When he got to where he'd left the sketchpad, though, it was gone. And so was the flower.

* * *

"Hey Cottontail?" Jack hopped up onto one of the egg sentinels, and perched on top like a grotesquely distorted bird. "What's shaking?"

Aster grunted, and continued... whatever it was he was doing. Making a mess of things, in Jack's opinion. There was charcoal. And dark lines on the paper. And charcoal dust turning gray fur black. Clearly Bunny was being very... intense about his art today.

"Something's got your tail in a knot," he said. He reached into one pocket, and pulled out a small sketchbook, and dangled it by one corner. "Perhaps losing... this?"

Aster looked up, and then gawked at him. "Where did you find that?"

"Oh." Jack shrugged and switched to nonchalantly reclining on the sentinel. "You know. In a forest. Somewhere."

"Were you _following_ me?"

"Would I do that?" Jack looked mock-innocent. He was good at that. When he was really innocent, he tended to look concussed. Aster had told him so.

"Yes," Aster pointed out. "You take stalking to an art form."

"I only stalk you if you're being interesting. Anyways, I wasn't following you this time." He reached over, and tucked the sketchbook into one of the bandolier pouches. "Considering, you know, the charcoal dust."

"Thanks." Aster brushed his hands off, which only raised a black cloud. He looked disgruntled.

"Maybe you should try chalk on white paper?"

"Maybe you should shut yer gob."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Or what, you'll make me?" He reached into his sweater pocket, and pulled out a flower, still trailing dirt from the roots. "Hey, where should I put this?"

"You - _give_ me that!" Aster snatched the plant from him, and looked it over. "You have to been following me, you bleedin' gobdaw!"

"Have not," Jack retorted.

"Have to!"

"Have not!"

"Have to!"

"Have not times infinity!"

"Have to times infinity times infinity!"

Jack nearly replied, but paused and started laughing instead. "How old _are_ we?" he asked, once he'd caught his breath.

Aster smirked at him, a little shyly. "Growing old is mandatory," he said. "Growing up is optional."

"Atta boy." Jack reached over and ruffled the fur between Bunny's ears. "See? Fun doesn't have to interfere with your hard work and deadlines and borderline neurosis."

Aster swiped at his hand, but not seriously. "Ah, rack off ya bastard."

Now or not, now or not, that was the question... Now. Now was more fun. "You'd know," he said. "Not like they were officially hitched or anything."

He looked confused at that. "What're you on about?"

"You know what I'm on about."

"No I don't."

"Yes," Jack said, just because he could. "You do."

Aster huffed. "No, I don't! Explain, now!"

Jack sighed, and shook his head. "You'll learn better if you figure it out for yourself," he said, quoting his father. It'd been real nice, remembering details about his parents. The quote was obviously quite familiar to Aster, as it should have been. It wasn't like the old man had switched to a new favorite saying when the youngest was born or anything.

Jack... was pretty sure he'd pieced together the new puzzle pieces in his memory. And it was kind of funny, really. He couldn't wait until Aster figured it out; he was literally waiting on tender hooks. The revelation would be _awesome_.

And then, when Bunny figured it out, he'd tell Jack. Because right now, Jack... was guessing at a large part of the picture. Not all of it - he'd filled in about a third of the picture, he thought, but that still left two-thirds to go. And most of it seemed to be sky.

* * *

Jack was acting a right galah, and Aster couldn't figure out what he was on. Something good, obviously, but the question was, what? It wasn't like a spirit could go over to a drug dealer on the corner and get a shot of the good stuff, and besides, Jack had admitted that the only thing to get him even close to 'high' was catnip tea.

He kept making cryptic comments and meaningful looks and Aster couldn't figure it out!

Jack aside, Aster kept running across the white Pooka. Never catching him, which was incredibly frustrating and frequently depressing. After so long thinking himself the last, it was amazing, wonderful, to know he _wasn't_. That there was another Pooka. Oh, there were so many things he wanted to talk to the other Pooka about! How had he survived? Were there anymore? Why hadn't he approached Aster before this? It wasn't like he'd been hiding away... well, not for the past handful of centuries, anyways.

But then he'd start wondering why the other Pooka hadn't stopped by for a chinwag, and kept running. Was there something wrong with him? Had he done something, said something, to upset the other Pooka? He didn't _think_ so; every time he saw the other Pooka, chased after him, the other bloke looked like he was about to burst into a fit of hysterical giggles, like he was having the time of his life.

To be perfectly honest, Aster was starting to wonder if maybe... It'd be just like that arsehole to play this kind of game. He'd driven everyone around him insane with his tricks, and not even joining the army had settled him down any. He'd had the record for the most demerits, write ups, and promotions-followed-by-immediate-demotions.

He growled, and paced up and down the bank of his paint river, unable to figure out either of the bloody arseholes in his life, Jack and the other Pooka.

And then, because the day could not get any better, a flicker of movement and color overhead turned out to be the Aurora.

* * *

There were elves, like the ones hanging around North's workshop, and then there were Elves, like these monsters.

Jack threw a handful of iron fillings into the air, and cackled when the Elf he was facing doubled over in pain, clutching his forehead. A quick slam of his staff into the back of the Elf's neck and down it went.

Elves were... well. North's elves were hyperactive and obsessed with food, cleaning, food, woodworking, and food, not necessarily in that order. The other Elves, the ones that had inspired the original fairy tales, they were... different.

For one thing, these Elves were obsessed with blood. And causing pain. And - well, not much else, really.

They looked absolutely androgynous, which was why he mentally defaulted to 'it' as a pronoun. They were also impossibly beautiful, if your standards of beauty were the classic "European Disney Princess", blond, blue-eyed, thin enough that organs _had_ to be missing, and pale enough to look bloodless.

Iron made their senses go wonky. It also had the bonus of disrupting their illusions or glamour or whatever it was, revealing their true forms, which was more than a little like the gray aliens from tabloids the world over.

It wasn't hard to fight them, at least in Jack's opinion. A pocket of iron fillings made a guy immune to the mind-bending powers, and as far as physical confrontations went... Elves sucked rotten eggs. They were just not used to their 'prey' fighting back.

Everyone had iron of some kind. Tooth had swords. North had swords. Aster had knives long enough to be swords - six of them, with enough arms to match, which was both the most awesome thing Jack had ever seen and also the most hilarious. Sandy had a thin iron chain draped around his neck like a necklace. Jack had his iron fillings.

The Elves did their best. They filled the air with deadly-looking birds. The ground crawled with snakes, spiders, and scorpions of all kinds. Dragons belched fire and ice drakes breathed a deathly cold fog that froze everything in its path.

It would have been better if the monsters hadn't been illusions.

Jack stepped back from the fighting, if it could be called that, and looked around for would-be escapees. Most Elves were too stupid to back down from a fight, but there was always one or two that seemed to have a surviving brain cell.

Yup, one Elf standing off to the side.

With a bow.

Jack scowled, and automatically started calculating trajectory even while flying towards the Elf. It drew back the bow just as he realized who it was aiming at.

Oh no.

Jack grabbed the Elf by the hand holding the string, and _twisted_. The bowstring snapped, the elf-shot fell to the ground where it started smoking, and the Elf screeched in shock. Or maybe because the snapped string had opened a line of blood across its face, who knew?

"Bad Elf," Jack said, and shoved as much cold through his hand and into the Elf's wrist as he could.

The Elf screamed and fell to its knees. Its remaining arm dangled uselessly. The frozen and dead arm was still attached, but there'd be no fixing that.

"Right," Jack growled, and looked over at the shocked still tableau of Elves and Guardians. "Next person to try hitting Bun- _my friends_ with elf-shot will _eventually_ die. Clear?"

He looked over at Aster, who was perfectly untouched, and smiled. He was so happy he'd caught the Elf before it could shoot Cottontail...

The Elves went back to their own realm pretty quick after that.

* * *

Aster padded along the dirt path through Halle's forest, in Belgium. The bluebells were giving their final showing of the year, and it was a right beaut of one. The ground under the slender, graying trunks seemed to be entirely blue, with just a few leaves poking through the blossoms here and there. The trees above were a riot of green-gold, coloring the light that shone through, like living stained glass. The contrast between the intensely saturated colors and the pale tan of the dirt path was everything the Pooka could have wished for in a subject to paint.

He wasn't here to paint, though. He was here because, according to Jamie, "Jack wanted to show him something" in the heart of the forest.

That kid... Jamie was rapidly climbing the list of his favorite sprogs, and not just because he was Sophie's older brother. The little sheila had her hands wrapped around his heart but good. Jamie, in turn, had wiggled his way into Aster's heart. Probably by reminding him of Jack, or what he had to assume a younger Jack had been like. Fun-loving, enthusiastic, with a well hidden and responsible core.

Well, Jamie hadn't said it was urgent. Aster paused, the better to admire a particularly interesting fallen tree, covered over in moss and rotting leaves and a collection of the local fungi. Beautiful. A perfect example of the natural circle of life in the making. When the fallen tree had rotten a bit more, saplings would find a nutrient rich bed to put down roots and grow in.

He continued on, taking his time, smelling the flowers and the loam and the Pooka -

Pooka?

Pooka!

He came alert, scenting the breeze for direction, and then took off. The other Pooka was here, right here, he _had_ to catch him this time!

Even as frantic as he was, as fast as he was going, he took care with where he put his feet. His own need was _not_ more important than the flowers.

The scent wound around the trees, dipped down between hills, and across a cheerful little stream. It led, he realized, to the heart of the forest.

Had Jack found out about the other Pooka and brought him here, for Aster? It seemed reasonable; the thought warmed his heart. Jack was a good friend.

Although he was rather concerned about Jack meeting up with the Pooka. Even if the white-furred leporid wasn't who he thought he was, well... The idea of two such mischievous natures together, bouncing ideas off each other, it was rather worrying!

Aster ran as only he - and one other - could. But as he neared the heart of the forest, he slowed down, and hesitated.

What if the other Pooka didn't want to see him? What if this would only end in another disappointing chase? What if -

No! No what if's! He would go out there and see, and talk with another Pooka, and stop dithering!

Aster lifted his chin, and put actions to thoughts.

As a place to meet another Pooka, the heart of Halle's forest was right up there. It was like something out of a fairy tale illustration, the proverbial 'airy glen' the Fae were said to frequent. The ground was, in this forest at least, covered in a thick carpet of emerald green moss, while the still pool in the center was also green, but the color of the Gachala Emerald from the La Vega de San Juan mine in Gachalá, which was closer to aqua in hue.

There were no trees, rocks, bushes, flowers, or fallen logs in the clearing. The trees formed a perfect circle, with branches arching overhead and blocking out the sky; yet the space beneath was one of light and air.

If the heart of the forest was a jewel, then the Pooka standing next to the pool was a star. His fur was all shades of white, from ivory to eggshell, with the palest of grey markings on his forehead, back, shoulders, and thighs. Unlike Aster, who had been forever trapped in the final stage of adolescence, this Pooka was a fully grown buck. He didn't have Aster's height, that was obvious even though he was sitting down, but he had sizable muscles Aster didn't share.

Adult bucks were built for strength and endurance first, with speed a close second. The adolescent bucks, and does of all ages, were speed and agility first.

And this one... oh! His ears were shorter than Aster's, more rounded; his fur thicker, plush velvet to Aster's silk. He had a full ruff, like a lion's mane, and when he smiled, the tiny fangs of an adult male were just visible at the corners of his mouth.

Unlike Aster, he wore no 'clothing', not even the bare minimum Aster found useful.

Beside him lay a familiar wooden staff, much like a shepherd's crook.

Aster looked from the staff to the Pooka, and back again. The other Pooka smiled, brilliant blue eyes gleaming with good humor.

"Figured it out yet?" he asked, in perfect English, heavily accented with East-Seaboard American. His voice was a deeper version of Jack's, from the larger ribcage no doubt, and oh, so familiar...

"Snowflake?" Aster whispered, trembling.

"Guess you have." The other Pooka grinned, and sat back on his haunches. "Well? Gonna stand over there all day, Cottontail, or come say hi?"

Aster needed no further invitation. He shot across the clearing and grabbed hold to his brother's fur. He wasn't sure what happened in the ensuing minutes; tears, certainly, and a few desperate words between sobs. His brother - his brother! - didn't reply, simply held Aster close, chin atop the taller (and smaller, if one went by weight) Pooka's head.

"Feel better?" he asked, when Aster calmed down.

"Where _were_ you?" So many thousands of millennia alone; so many nights spent staring up into the sky where the memory of his planet's sun still burned, grieving; so many times he'd broken down longing to hear _just one_ word in his mother-tongue. And all this time, Snowflake had been here!

"Ah, Aster..." He both heard and felt Snowflake sigh, chest heaving under Aster's cheek. "It's... complicated."

"So start at the beginning," he snapped. " _Un_ -complicate it!"

"Alright, alright..." Another hug. Aster snuggled into it, however upset he was. He'd missed his brother's hugs.

Snowflake cleared his throat. "So. You know how I am with technology..."

"Luddite."

"Exactly. Rose-" Their niece's name sounded just the slightest bit off in English, with Snowflake trying to give it the proper, Pookan pronunciation. "-came with me. I got us in to one of the small ships - and so you know, I think several other clans made it to the big ships, but I don't know for certain. I, well... instead of sub-light travel, we went the regular way, Rose and I, in stasis. We didn't arrive here until a little over three centuries ago."

"Oh," Aster murmured. So Snowflake hadn't abandoned him. He'd just been... asleep, for millions upon millions of years' worth of travel. He hadn't abandoned Aster, or at least, hadn't meant to.

Snowflake sighed again, and nuzzled the base of Aster's ear. "We didn't know you had come to this planet; we missed seeing Manny, you see. We shapeshifted to look like the natives, and, well..."

Aster sighed, and nuzzled Snowflake's shoulder. "I see," he said, and he did. Three hundred years ago? Yeah, he'd long ago retreated to his Warren, going up to the surface infrequently, and when he didn't go because of Easter, he went to places humans hadn't been yet. Snowflake wouldn't have ever seen him, and Aster wouldn't have recognized a shapeshifted Snowflake. Let alone recognized Rose.

"I'm sorry you were alone so long," Snowflake whispered. He pushed Aster back a bit, but only so they could look each other in the eye. "And I'm sorry I didn't come find you sooner."

"Why didn't you? And... How're you still alive?" Pooka hadn't had lifespans any longer than humans. Aster had lived so long both because of his exposure to the Last Light, and because Manny had made him a spirit. He could understand Snowflake and Rose living so long because of the stasis, but once they'd landed on earth, they should have aged and died.

"Ah." Snowflake rubbed the back of his neck. "About that. Spirits don't age, and, well..." He shrugged, and picked up the staff. It frosted over, the way Jack's staff did.

Aster stared at the length of wood, and then back up at his brother. A suspicion was starting to form, the similarity of his brother's voice to Jack's, the staff and ice powers, even the length of time Snowflake said he'd been on earth. Combining all that with the Pookan ability to have children with anything mammalian...

"Snowflake," he said slowly. "Jack's not me nephew, is he?"

Snowflake stared at him, opened and closed his mouth several times, and finally squeaked. He squeaked again, and clamped one hand over his muzzle.

And then he burst into laughter.

"W-what the hell, Bunny, have you lost your mind? _Nephew_?" More laughter. Aster sat back and fumed. What'd he say that was so funny?

"I have not!"

"Nephew!" Snowflake repeated, between giggles.

"Oy!" Aster shoved at his brother's chest. "Cut it out! It's not funny!"

Snowflake stopped laughing, and grinned at him. "Oh yes it is. C'mon, Brer Rabbit. Guess number two." He waggled the staff from side to side, and twitched his eyebrows in a familiar gesture.

"No..." Aster's ears fell back in dismay.

"Yes!" Snowflake started giggling again, and lunged. He knocked Aster down, and proceeded to tickle the other Pooka until he laughed, uncontrollably.

"Snowflake - Jack! Jack, stop it!"

"What, not having fun?" Snowflake - or should his name properly be Jack now? - snuffled at the side of Aster's neck, and then flopped down on top of him. Short or not, Jack was heavy! How the hell did he fly around on the wind all the time?

Aster grabbed onto one of Jack's ears, and tugged lightly. "I don't understand," he murmured.

"It's pretty simple," Jack said. "When I became a spirit..." This time, he raised only one eyebrow, inviting Aster to fill in the blanks himself.

Jack had told them all bits and pieces over the past couple years. He'd drowned, saving his sister - or niece, rather, considering what he'd just said about Rose - and been brought back by Manny as a spirit, only he couldn't remember anything.

"But," he said, "that Easter, you got your memories back..."

Jack shrugged one shoulder, and twitched the opposite ear. The human gesture combined with the Pookan looked... strange. Not wrong, just different. "Some," he said. "It was like I got a few pictures and was trying to reconstruct my entire life from that. And then I'd get more pictures that contradicted what I'd figured out, and then..." He shrugged again.

"When did you start remembering me?" Aster asked. He'd have been ashamed at how small and worried he sounded, but... this was his brother. And Jack - Snowflake - had been leading him a pretty chase for yonks now.

Hadn't he wanted to catch up with Aster?

"A few months ago." Jack stroked along the back of Aster's neck. "At first it was pretty confused. I hadn't gotten non-earth memories before then, at least none I couldn't explain away. And then when I realized that yeah, those weren't hallucinations or anything, it was still pretty confused. I still don't have everything back. It'll probably be centuries before that happens."

Aster pressed into the petting. "But... with the running away...?"

"What, you didn't think it was fun?" Jack snorted. "I was trying to figure things out, oh bratty one. And I didn't want to go 'bam, there's another Pooka, oh yeah I'm your brother'. I wanted to ease you into the idea."

Ease him into the idea. Right. Considering just who was talking, Aster figured it'd been more like one large, elaborate prank. "So why're you telling me now?" he asked.

"Because I finally remembered you're my brother," Jack said, and grinned.

Right. Got bored then.

Oh well. Aster snuggled up against Jack, breathing in deep of his scent. Familiar in two ways, and he should've twigged on from that. Jack's scent hadn't changed with his transformation to Pooka, or human. He had no idea how he'd missed that, but then, in his defense, he'd believed he was the last Pooka, and Jack hadn't known what he was, either.

"What happened to Rose?" he asked.

Jack hummed. "Well, she didn't end up in a frozen lake, so she grew up, got married, had a whole bunch of kids and grandkids and great-grandkids... We're related to half the Eastern Seaboard, I think," he said, his eyes a little wide.

"Which seaboard?" Aster asked, though he knew which one Jack meant.

"The only one that matters! America, duh!"

Aster chuckled, and nuzzled Jack's chest. This was right; curling up with his brother, another Pooka to stand with him (and pull pranks on him, he suspected). He wasn't alone. He had at least one small part of his family back.

And more spreading throughout the humans.

They lazed, curled up together, for a while. Aster never bothered guessing how long a period of time had been; he was old enough now that it didn't matter. Days could pass like minutes, hours could pass like centuries, and years could pass in the blink of an eye. After some time, though, he felt Jack stir, and then the idiot drongo poked him in the side!

"Oy!"

"Question for you," Jack said, and yawned. "Before I fall asleep, question for you. Which of us is older?"

He'd disturbed Aster for that? " _You_ , ya dill. You were born before me."

Wait. That meant Jack was his older brother.

Oh, _bleeding hell_...

"Yeah, but," Jack said, sounding confused. "I spent forever in stasis while you were, y'know, living. And then three hundred years stuck as a fourteen year old."

Aster opened his mouth to reply with something scathing, and then paused. And began to grin. "Wait. You're saying you think I'm older now?"

"I - hold up, what's with that expression?" Jack half-sat up, and frowned down at Aster.

"I'm the _older_ brother," he replied, and smirked. "You're the _younger_ brother."

"I'm still bigger," Jack muttered.

"Yeah, but I'm the - oof! Get off!"

Jack laughed, and remained sprawled on top of Aster until the (older) other Pooka finally called uncle. Only then did he roll off to the side.

"Hey," he said, just as Aster was about to drift off to sleep. "How about we prank North with this new discovery?"

"Snowflake, if you don't shut up and let me sleep, I'm going to strangle you."

He felt a gentle tug on one ear. "Yeah, yeah. You sleep, Cottontail. I'll be here when you wake up.

And then, just as he was on the very cusp of sleep, "Hey. Think Jamie's one of Rose's descendents?"

"That's it, Frostbite! You die!"

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a sequel/remix called "Fatherhood" when I get it written. -deadpan stare-


End file.
